The Morning Sun
by bizinhavieira
Summary: My life used to be great, easy. It's not like that anymore. And I'm not the only one going through that. But I'm not going to sit around and watch my hopes fall. I'll do anything to get my life back. I go on because I have something worth fighting for.


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**THE MORNING SUN**

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Blaise Zabini stretched out his arm as he reached for the bedside table. His hand felt the surface and after a few seconds he found the clock. A quarter to four. He was on time. He had been in this routine for the past four years and now he didn't even need an alarm to wake up on time anymore. Who was happy about it were his room mates, who could stay in bed even after he was long gone. To them he was just a reporter, a person of little importance. But at this hour he had a more important things to worry about than their opinion. He had an important report to make. And this was what kept him going over these past years. Blaise yawned and decided to get up. When he sat up his bed creaked, reminding him of the place where he was living; a place he loathed.

He grew up in a house that transpired wealth. His mother made sure he had the best clothes, the best toys, and the most expensive food. He had spent his vacations in the most exotic of places, most of which he had been to before the age of fifteen. And it was not only about money. She had loved him every single day of her life. His mother was an angel, despite what everyone said about her.

She was beautiful, she was smart, she was caring and she was rich. She was everything most woman wanted to be. He could see why they wanted to take her down, but what they did was cruel: they accused her of murdering her seven husbands and keeping their fortunes. She was sent to Azkaban and all their money was taken away. Images of the day he visited her still haunted his dreams.

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_Blaise paced around the room. He had arrived there two hours ago, had submitted to searches and interrogations by the guards and after all of that, he still had to hand them his wand. Not to mention the looks of disdain, superiority or, even worse, pity he had received from them. His patience was almost gone when he saw her entering the room. He recognized her because of her smile: her genuine smile that she reserved only for him, her most precious jewel._

_He couldn't wait any longer; Blaise ran to his mother and hugged her. Then he helped her sit down in the chair. Even this close he could barely recognise her. She was paler, thiner and her eyes no longer shined like they used to._

_"How are you, son?"__,__ she asked with worry._

_"Living," he shrugged, "But you are the one I'm worried about." He took her hands between his. "How are they treating you?"_

_"Like a prisioner," she tried to joke, a ghost of a smile showing on her face, "And even if they didn't, it would still be the same..." she took a deep breath and he could see the desperation in her eyes, "The Dementors may be gone, but we can still feel their presence everywhere," Frightened, she continued with a low voice. "There is no way anyone can be happy in here, Blaise. We can smell death everywhere."_

_"Be strong, mom," he said, tears filling his eyes. "I'll take you out of here soon enough, I promise." He hadn't even finished saying this when the guard opened the door and announced that their time was over._

_The guard then aproached his mother and started walking her back to her cell. As they crossed the door, she turned back to Blaise and said, "It was good seeing you one last time, son. I'll always love you." And with that she was gone._

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His mother died a few days after his visit; she didn't survive even a week in prison, leaving Blaise alone with nothing but his job and the feeling that he should have done something to save her. He was just thankful that she died without knowing that he had to leave the luxurious house he grew up in, or that he had had to sell his fancy clothes in order to have something to eat. He never asked anyone for help, wouldn't lower himself. He had his pride and he would not let go of his lifestyle so easily. Step by step he was taken to the life he had now. If anyone had said that after a few years he would be living in a poor Muggle neighborhood, he would say they were insane, and yet here he was.

Blaise got out of the shower and put on his best clothes. He left the flat and walked into the rat infested hallway of the building he lived. Each crack of the woody floor, each flake of the paint on the wall, each water drop that hit him from the ceiling, every drunk neighbor he had to jump over in the corridor, made him want to burn this building down. He ran out of the front door and walked down the dirty alley and into the main street. He could Apparate to the place he was going, but he liked to walk there because it always gave him time to think and to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. Just like his mother, his friends had been persecuted for believing what they believed and doing what they thought best. Blaise couldn't escape the irony of how he was being discriminated because of the very same discrimination he was accused of having.

After walking a few blocks he entered another dirty building and strode into a big room where some drunk 'dirty looking people', like he called them, were still dancing. He made his way along the wall of the room, which was a bit darker then the rest. When he was half-way along the wall, a man collided with him as he went in the opposite direction. Without even thinking twice, Blaise caught the man by the collar of his shirt and pressed him against the wall.

"Do that move again," he roared, "and you will wish you were never born."

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It w-was just an accident," stuttered the man.

"Then give back the wallet that 'accidentally' went from my pocket to yours." The man gave back the wallet with trembling hands and Blaise continued, "I'll remember your face, so just keep away from me, scum!"

Blaise shoved the man's body against the wall, leaving him to fall to the floor as he continued to the back of the room. If he had doubts before, they were now all gone. They were not discriminating. They were not prejudiced. If they were anything, he would say that they were organized: wizards to one side, Muggles to the other. He had been living among Muggles for years and not once they had given him a good reason to like them. Not once had they given him a reason to trust them.

He crossed over to the far door and climbed three sets of stairs. This building had been their head-quarters for the last year. It was the longest time they had ever stayed in one place. He walked slowly toward the door at the end of the hall holding his wand with a firm grip, searching for any sign of a fight or of magic. He pressed his ears against the door, but heard nothing. The imperturbable charm had not been removed at least. He reached for the knob and turned, but the door didn't move. He got his key out and used it, hearing as the locking mechanism clicked. Used to precaution, he opened the door slowly, entering the poorly lit room. As he entered, he was startled to hear voices in the room.

He closed the door silently and went step by step toward the voices. He tried to distinguish what the voices were saying but they were not louder then whispers. All he could say was that there was more than one person in the room. He took a deep breath and opened the door with force, pointing his wand to the people inside.

"It's just us," said a man Blaise recognised as Adrian, who raised his hands up defensively. Blaise took a look at the other person and saw that it was his other friend, Marietta. Blaise lowered his wand and said, "Bloody hell, I was not expecting anyone here. When did you get back?"

"Sorry I didn't reach you before," started Adrian summoning more tea from the kitchen, "But I just got back a few hours ago, and I knew you would be here soon enough."

"So, now that Blaise is here may I assume I will finally learn why you called me so early in the morning?" said Marietta, who tried unsuccessfully to hide a yawn.

"I had my reasons," Adrian said smiling as Blaise conjured a chair for himself. "I really wanted you both to hear first hand the news."

"So it must be important," Blaise predicted.

It was not always that the three of them got together, and they rarely had a proper meeting apart from the first year when they decided to take hold of the situation and do something. The three of them had suffered in the past and could not tolerate the way things were being handled. After deciding to do something they had decided to separate. Adrian and Marietta went around and gathered supporters. Blaise was responsible for keeping everybody informed of what was being done. Even though they never lost contact, they didn't usually meet in person.

"And it is. If it really works out, we will be taking a great step in turning our utopia into reality," stated Adrian, catching the attention of his friends. "Do you guys know who Igor Karkaroff is?"

"He used to be Durmstrang's Headmaster, didn't he?" answered Marietta.

"Exactly. And a friend of my father." Adrian took another sip from his tea. "After pulling a few strings I managed to contact him."

"I thought he was dead!" Blaise was surprised. Many of the people he interviewed claimed that they had seen Karkaroff's lifeless body. Facts fit, so the Minister had considered him dead, even if the body was never actually found.

"Well, now we know that he is not. He is safe and sound in Morocco."

"And how can he be important to us?" asked Blaise impatiently.

"I talked to him about what we're doing. And now he can be considered our supporter. More than that actually. He decided to build a school there," answered Adrian with a smile. "A school within the right standards. I'll show you what he has planned," he stated, as he cleared the table in front of them from the dirty dishes and napkins. Then he placed some papers down on the now cleared table. "That's the thing you could help with, Marietta, finding teachers".

As they went through the contents, Blaise's heart grew with hope and he could see that the same happened with both his friends. The first steps were being taken. Like Adrian had said, the last few years they had been working on an Utopic world. This school would be the start point of bringing their Utopia to the real world; the beginning of the society they were fighting for, the start of a world where they would be able to live in peace, away from all this mudblood filth that destroyed their lives, that destroyed his family.

Yes, it was a mudblood who sentenced his mother. Yes, it was a mudblood who had been in charge of her in Azkaban and who had let her die. Yes, it was a mudblood and her family that were living in his house. Yes, it was the 'mudblood queen', Hermione Granger, who marked Marietta's face back in their fifth year in a way that was seen even today. Yes, it was a muggle whom Adrian's former wife ran away with. And the list goes on. There were mudbloods everywhere, ruining every single thing he had in his life, and the same happened in so many other pure-blood families.

That's why they were here, to gather all pure-bloods who wanted to fight for something that matters: a happy life away from this sort of scum that was destroying the wizardry world. And they were succeeding at it. They already had over seventy wizards and witches openly supporting their cause and the number raised everyday. Ten of them were even helping them spread the word. This is what kept them going on even after the Ministry closed their first headquarter. And the second. And the third. But who is counting? They would keep spreading their word, even if they had to stay underground.

Blaise took a deep breath, gathered the papers he had taken notes on and went to the back room of the apartment. With his wand he turned on the equipment as he re-read the text he had prepared for today. His friends joined him soon after: this would be a special edition and all of them wanted to give their listeners the good news. Blaise looked at the clock and cleared his throat. Through the window, he could see the first rays of the sun. He smiled as he started the broadcast on the wireless network:

"Good morning, witches and wizards. Welcome to the newest edition of the 'Morning Sun', once again bringing hope of a brighter future for the pure-bloods all over Britain."

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_A.N.: So, did you guys like it? I have to thank **eternangelkiss **from HPFF Forums for the help she gave me with this one-shot! Without her it wouldn't be as good as it is right now! I hope you take the time to review! Thanks!_


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